


Taren - Mind

by barbex



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: A grumpy Inquisitor who doesn't really care for all this inquisition hotchpotch is a special kind of challenge for Cassandra.





	Taren - Mind

**Author's Note:**

> _A ficlet for the first prompt of Fictober 2017: There they were, pursuing wisdom._
> 
>  
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> _Dragon Age Inquisition with an inquisitor that doesn’t actually exist because that would require to fire up the game and actually play it and who has time for that? But I like to imagine my grumpy city elf who became the hero of Ferelden could have a grumpy little sister who happened to become the inquisitor._
> 
>  
> 
> _I should play that game some time._
> 
>  
> 
> Taren is elvish for mind.

* * *

“Do you see the scripture? Do you know what it means?”

Ginarell sighs. “Cassandra, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know shit about all this dalish crap, I’m a city girl.”

“But you’ve been talking with Solas…”

A loud snort from Sera interrupts Cassandra’s hopeful question.

Ginarell sighs even louder. “Oh yes, and wasn’t that delightful. All that spooky stuff about old elves and shit, like I care.”

Sera puts her arm around her shoulder and sneers at Cassandra. “She was in such a bad mood after that.”

“Worse than usual?” the Iron Bull asks with a good natured grin.

Ginarell sticks out her tongue but a little smile softens her features. Sera and the Iron Bull are the only ones who can occasionally make her laugh.

“I’m begging you, Cassandra, next time, just drag Solas along and he can tell you all about this. I’m just here to fix holes in the sky.”

Cassandra frowns and predictably, Ginarell jumps on it like an attack dog. “I know what you’re thinking, why did the Maker or whoever put the mark on me and not someone more suitable.”

“I’m not…”

“Oh yes you are!” Ginarell steps closer, her finger jabbing against Cassandra’s breast plate. “You know why I was at that damn conclave? Not because I was some elven legate or some such shit. I was there to sell decorations! My mother and I have — ” there is a pause and a glimpse of pain on her harsh face “ — we had a store and we sold dalish decorations. Not real things, the kind of crap that shems think of as dalish. We carved hallas out of roots, glued pretty stones to them and sold them as ‘real dalish art’. We used left over string from the seamstress and made knotted art pieces to hang in windows. The more feathers and bells and sea shells we put in, the more expensive we could sell them for.”

She throws up her hands and turns around, letting out a bitter laugh. “It was just crap for shems. I was at the conclave because someone wanted to put up welcoming decorations for the dalish and had us deliver a cart of our root-hallas to the temple.” Again that bitter laugh. “Our crap, for real dalish elves! And look what it got us! My mother is dead and I have this green curse on my hand.”

She turns back to Cassandra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not more like my sister, I’m sorry that I’m not seeking wisdom like you. I’m sorry that the wrong person got this anchor.” She kicks against a wolf statue and slinks back to the gate they had come through. Before she can step outside, Cassandra calls for her.

“Wait!”

Ginarell stops, her shoulders hanging in defeat. “Why? Why keep pretending that I’m the Herald of Andraste?”

Cassandra steps up to her and puts her hand on Ginarell’s shoulder. “I have seen you protect the people of these lands, I have seen you fight against monsters and risk your life to close the rifts. I see how you care, how you care for your friends, the people of the lands and what the inquisition does. No, I don’t think the wrong person got this anchor. I believe the Maker knew what kind of person we needed to save what is worth saving.”

“Do you really?” Ginarell looks around the ruin and shrugs. “Even if I’m not pursuing wisdom like you want me to?”

Cassandra lowers her head and bows. “Maybe you already have all the wisdom you need.”

“Oh stop it!” Ginarell takes Cassandra’s arm and drags her out of the gloomy ruin. “Put a note on the map for Solas and Dorian to take a look at this and put it in their books. They can have that wisdom.” She grabs Sera’s arm with her other hand and grins. “We have better things to do. I feel a rift close by that needs a beating. What do you say, warrior women?”

Sera raises her bow. “Bad rubbish needs a beating!”

“Yes!” Ginarell lifts up the anchor and lets it light up. Sera and her run ahead to the rift glimmering in the distance and Cassandra and the Iron Bull hurry to follow them.

When you look closely, you can almost see a happy smile on Cassandra’s face.


End file.
